


Cleanse

by Alexandres



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing, Gen, Mild suicidal idealation, Not Canon Compliant, They/them used for Byleth, mostly self indulgent, only for one sentence though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 16:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandres/pseuds/Alexandres
Summary: For the first time in a while, Dimitri lets himself trust another person.Alternatively; For the first time in a while, Dimitri takes a damn bath.





	Cleanse

Dimitri had never liked to cry. Especially not in front of others. Even less-so in front of Byleth, as he's recently discovered. But the professor shows no sign of judgment on their face, nor is there undeserved pity for the vile boar before them. They only offer a hand; which Dimitri is glad to take.

"Your hands are so warm... Have they always been?" He asks, his voice a hoarse whisper.

There's silence between the two of them as he grips Byleth's hand. It's not unbearable, but Dimitri wishes Byleth would say something, anything, to break it.

Byleth does not speak. Instead, they draw their hand back from his grasp and reach up; gloved fingers drawing closer to his face. The gesture seems strange, but perhaps the mercenary is simply trying to confirm that the man in front of them is in fact alive and real. Despite his years of enhanced survival instincts telling him not to, Dimitri lets his eye slip shut, waiting for the feeling of a warm hand against his face.

But it never comes, and his eye opens again as Byleth's fingers slip into his hair, tangling into the long blond strands.

"Your hair is a mess." Is all Byleth says.

Dimitri furrows his brow and frowns. He searches Byleth's face for any signs of a joke, but they're as stoic as he remembers. Not that they're wrong, though. His hair has seen better days. It's become unkempt. Slick with grease yet still managing to look dull, and the strands stick to each other and to his skin in ways unbecoming of a man once deemed prince.

"I've been fighting for my life for years, hiding myself away from this world. I haven't exactly had the luxury of free time for baths or grooming, professor." Dimitri's tone is tense.

"We've just managed a tremendous victory. Surely you can find the time now." Byleth’s hand slips from his hair and moves to grab his wrist.

"What are you-" Dimitri’s protest is cut short when Byleth gives his wrist a sharp yank towards the monastery. Despite being smaller, the mercenary has no issue pulling Dimitri along.

"Let’s go."

\----------

And so, Dimitri finds himself in a washbasin, the water heated with whatever magic his professor had picked up during the meetings and seminars he had skipped. His furs lie piled on a seat nearby, and the blond wishes he could wrap himself in them again, feeling so vulnerable without. At least Byleth had allowed him to keep his spear nearby.

“I am here if the need arises.” Byleth had soothed. But still Dimitri feels a bit better seeing the familiar glint of steel within arm’s reach. In truth, he feels more naked without a spear in his hands than he does without his heavy armor. Even his eyepatch has been removed --carefully placed on top of his clothing-- leaving the scarred skin exposed to the air.

“Professor, I-” Dimitri starts, though the word feels foreign on his tongue now.

“Byleth.” The other corrects, “I’m no one’s professor, anymore.”

“...Byleth.” The blond tries the name. It’s just as heavy as ‘professor’, but it feels… Better. Whatever he had meant to say had faded away, but the other doesn't press for him to continue.

The blond instead stares down at the water, already tinged gray with whatever dirt and grime had washed off his skin naturally. It had been so long since he’d truly looked at what was under his armor. He’d avoided it whenever possible. He finds there several new scars and bruises he probably couldn’t name the source of if he tried. His stomach twists and he moves his hands to the sides of the tub and curls them around the edge, if only to hide how badly they're shaking. Dimitri is aware of just how hard his heart beats behind his ribs, as though it's ready to burst. How pathetic would it be, the Great Boar Prince who survived off the land for years, to die from shock at the first touch of human kindness. He bites back a bitter laugh when he asks himself what Dedue, or even Felix, would think upon hearing the news.

He hears Byleth shift behind him, and a pair of gloves comes to rest on the edge of the tub near his shoulder. A cup dips under the water.

"Just what do you plan to do?" Dimitri questions. He's starting to tense up again.

"Let me help you." Byleth's steady voice is a stark contrast to Dimitri’s harsh tone.

The blond doesn't reply right away, he considers if it would be okay to be so vulnerable, even if just for a moment. Byleth had been so patient with him these past months… ‘Perhaps,’ Dimitri thinks, ‘just this once.’ He inhales sharply through his nose.

"Do what you must."

And so Byleth continues. They reach with their empty hand and tilt Dimitri's head back slightly before pouring the water over his hair, letting it flow over his shoulders and back. The process is repeated a couple more times before Byleth deems his hair is wet enough. The mercenary shifts behind him again before there's the sound of a bottle being opened, followed by a faint herbal scent.

Then there are fingers on his scalp, and Dimitri flinches at the sudden contact. His gaze flits towards his spear in a brief panic.

"Sorry. I should have warned you." Byleth says. Once again Dimitri does not respond and instead forces himself to control his breathing.

Byleth runs his hands over Dimitri's hair a couple times, letting the soap saturate the strands before they slide their hands back up and start to work at his roots. The blond grips the side of the tub again, his eye slipping shut as he feels adept fingers working years of dust and sweat from his hair.

Dimitri has seen the way Byleth treats enemies. Brutal and unyielding, but for him, every touch is gentle. Even as their hands snag in knots, they never pull or yank. Instead they undo them carefully and run fingers through the newly untangled hair after each one. The blond forces noises of contentment to die in his throat with every soft touch. He’s finding that getting clean feels much better than he’d ever remembered…

"Your hair has gotten so much longer." Byleth comments.

"Yet yours doesn't seem to have grown at all…" Dimitri replies.

There's an amused exhale behind him before his head is tilted back again and Byleth begins to rinse out his hair.

Once more those long fingers slip through his blond locks, which are now noticeably lighter in both look and feel. Dimitri tenses again when Byleth stops their fingers on his temples, before moving them down and back to land just under his jaw, on his pulse points. Surely, they know just how horribly his heart is beating now. They can no doubt feel the way his blood moves through his veins, as wild and untamed as the rest of him.

Their touch is light, but so warm… so soothing. Dimitri wonders if he would even fight back if Byleth were to slip their hands lower, down onto his shoulders or even around his neck, to push him under the water. Perhaps- he would simply consider it an act of kindness.

The push never comes. And just as suddenly as those hands were there, they're gone, and a rag lands on Dimitri's shoulder.

Byleth stands and shakes excess water from their fingers, "I trust you can take care of the rest yourself? I'll be right outside the door if you need me, Dimitri."

They don't make a sound as they leave the room, only the click of the door signifies that they've truly left.

And suddenly, despite how warm the water is, Dimitri finds that he is cold.


End file.
